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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325928">Mòrag’s Disastrous Revenge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy'>green_piggy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cooking, During Canon, F/F, Fluff, They're in love!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bested once by her most foul nemesis, Mòrag and Brighid work together in a rematch that must result in success; a second attempt at cooking an acceptable meal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kagutsuchi | Brighid/Meleph | Mòrag Ladair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Xenoblade Femslash Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mòrag’s Disastrous Revenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for the xenoblade femslash exchange hosted on twitter, for the prompt: "Brighid/Mòrag cooking adventures... or disasters" for <a href="https://twitter.com/rufflebanger">rufflebanger on twitter!</a><br/>thank you so much for hosting this event and thank you for the lovely prompt - i had a wonderful time writing this! i hope this fic is to your satisfaction :3</p>
<p>hope everyone else enjoys too~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The act was set for round two of Mòrag’s Best Attempt At Cooking That Held A Very High Risk Of Everyone Ending Up With No Food At All.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stage? Corinne’s kitchen, which she had kindly lent to them while Rex took her out to explore the Leftheria Archipelago. It was a serene afternoon, the first hints of the sunset beginning to peer in from over the mighty wall of clouds that conquered most of Leftheria’s landscape. The house itself was as homely as any place Brighid had ever been in before. A series of ritchey stools were clustered around an old table with so many knots and holes that any Gormotti woodcarver would have shuddered at the sight. It was well used and well loved, and held a certain, almost anachronistic, charm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The actors? Only herself and Mòrag, who was head-deep amongst the bags and satchels of supplies they had all brought with them. Her lady had been strangely insistent that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>do the cooking tonight. Memories of that foul Argentum Monkfish made Brighid shudder from head-to-toe. Truthfully, it wasn’t as if they could do any worse than that incident, even if saying so rather felt like tempting fate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both in casual Ardainian clothing. Mòrag was in black dungarees over a plain white shirt, long sleeves buttoned at her wrists, her hair worn down for once. As for herself, Brighid had on a sweeping high-low hem dress that started at her chest, in a shade just a tad darker than the purple of her hair, over a ruffled white tank top. Unfortunately, her hair and arms of crystalised flames meant that she was unsuitable for Mor Ardain’s love for fiery shades and sleeves, and she’d had to adapt what few outfits she possessed outside of her usual duties.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other members of their strangle little family were off doing their own activities, from Pandoria attempting to teach Nia and Poppi how to fish, to Mythra grumbling and explaining the Alrest from five hundred years ago to an enraptured Zeke and Dromarch, with Azurda occasionally giving his own recollections as Tora chatted with some of the Leftherian locals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The script? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hopefully </span>
  </em>
  <span>a simple tale that would lead to a successful meal. Brighid did not exactly hold the highest of hopes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Especially when Mòrag tugged out what appeared to be a block of ice with a handle with a triumphal cry, looking far too proud of herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I found it! The meat necessary for tonight’s meal!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Brighid tilted her head. “You have a recipe in mind, Lady Mòrag?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many times must I remind you, dear Brighid?” Mòrag grasped the handle with both hands and began to slowly heave the… </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>towards the kitchen stovetop. Brighid suddenly remembered seeing Mòrag and Dahlia, of all people, intense in conversation a few days past. Had Dahlia agreed to freeze their meat so that it could be preserved? It was… in full honesty, a brilliant idea. “No need for titles when it is only the two of us around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah…” She’d grown so accustomed to assuming that there would </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>be somebody around, mainly given to how silent some members of their crew could be, that it erred to be on the side of caution and use her title at all times. Brighid couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Of course, Mòrag. My apologies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag beamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...That does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not, </span>
  </em>
  <span>however, answer my previous question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Mòrag’s avoidance of said question was… not exactly an encouraging start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah! Er, of course.” The block of ice slammed next to the sink with a mighty noise that could have shook the ground of the very Titan they were standing on. Brighid winced on instinct, lowering her hands to see Mòrag clapping her own together with far too much agusto. “I am using a recipe that Pyra herself gave me, so there will be no room for error. Absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>none.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which recipe is that, may I ask?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, the Roast Beef Tagliata.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” Brighid closed her eyes fully and did not see. She could feel the beginning of a headache forming, for she knew what her lady’s next words would be. “I trust that it will be followed down to the list of ingredients as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A beat of silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mòrag?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For… the most part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Knew it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Brighid resisted the urge to groan, and instead said: “Which ingredients are we differing from, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag gave Brighid a look as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one in the wrong. “O-only the meat!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>important </span>
  </em>
  <span>ingredient, hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Mòrag coughed into her fist before turning around with an extreme lack of grace and dignity. The sink tap gave a squeak of pain as she twisted it on to wash her hands. “It will be fine! Meat is meat, whether it be red or white.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Architect </span>
  <em>
    <span>save </span>
  </em>
  <span>them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid waited for Mòrag to finish rolling up her sleeves, cuffing them at her elbows (and if she took in the view a little bit, enjoying the rare sight of Mòrag’s bare muscular arms… that was for her alone to know), before she spoke herself. “They… are still cooked quite differently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you wish to cook it yourself, since you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh </span>
  </em>
  <span>so very much?” came Mòrag’s teasing voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid quickly shook her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought not.” Mòrag went back to the numerous bags and routed about in them once more. “The recipe is on the table, if you wish to see it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid’s heels clicked on the wood as she walked to the table. True to her lady’s word, the table was bare save for the sheet of paper on the corner nearest to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid lifted the sheet and skimmed over it. Pyra’s handwriting was very different from Mythra’s, curiously enough, despite their shared body. Mythra had scribbled a few notes in Brighid’s journal from the Aegis War period — usually ‘reminders’ such as </span>
  <em>
    <span>“YOU SUCK!!!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <b>
    <em>“YOU’RE </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>THE SIMPLETON” </span>
  </em>
  <span>(there was… evidently some history behind that word that Brighid didn’t remember) — and her handwriting was clumsy and unrefined, almost illegible in some places. Pyra, on the other hand, had a much more cursive and cute style. It was quite endearing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sheet of paper read:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Roast Beef Tagliata ღ</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(Thank you Vasq! Ü )</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ingredients</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>~~~~~~~~~~~</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ꕤ Two medium-sized Bully Tunas</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ꕤ Three Spark Cucumbers</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ꕤ Three Puri Leaf Cabbages</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ꕤ One Sweet Wasabi</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ꕤ One Ruby Mangosteen</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>~~~~~~~~~~~</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid stopped reading at that point, mainly due to noticing a distinct lack of </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the ingredients listed on the recipe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mòrag, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>read this beforehand, yes? Just to be certain?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag whirled up and around with a fierce frown, magnified by her hair falling around her face. Her arms were empty. “Of course I did,” she hissed. “Brighid,  part of my </span>
  <em>
    <span>job </span>
  </em>
  <span>is reading instruction manuals. Do you think I would fail to fulfill it just because we are in the kitchen and not the battlefield?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would never doubt you for a second,” Brighid said, doubting her right this very second. “But, ah… I only asked because in the ingredients list, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bully Tuna </span>
  </em>
  <span>is listed. Which is, as I am sure you are aware, a fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A beat of silence. Then two. Mòrag gawked at her like an Argentum Monkfish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“...What.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She marched over and yanked the paper out of Brighid’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Ah.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mòrag’s hand twitched towards the brim of her usual helmet… only for her to frown when her hand brushed empty air. Brighid chuckled behind her hand. Her lady could be so adorable. “W-well. I, er, must have missed that particular ingredient, somehow. But I assure you we have every other ingredient!” She turned around back to the slowly-thawing block of ice. “Why,” she muttered under her breath, “is it called Roast </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beef </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tagliata if there is, in fact, no beef at all, but… </span>
  <em>
    <span>tuna?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An excellent question, and one we can ponder another time.” Brighid stepped forward and rested her hand on Mòrag’s shoulder. She slid it down her arm, past her bicep and the cuff of her sleeve, fingers lingering on her forearm. Being skin-to-skin like this was a rare treat. Well, as skin-to-skin as Brighid could get, given the fact that most of her arms were crystalised flames. “Allow me to melt this ice for you. Bring it over to the sink, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t simply melt it here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid looked at Mòrag for a few seconds. “...I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…” Mòrag looked confused. “Is there any reason why we can’t melt it now? It’s already on the work surface.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...She wasn’t joking. Oh dear. Brighid may not have been a chef herself, but this wasn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>cooking </span>
  </em>
  <span>related.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Mòrag,” she said, trying to sound stern but only sounding soft. “What happens if you melt ice with fire? With melting ice in general?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Water, of course.” Mòrag gave her a severe look, eyebrows arching almost to her hairline. “Brighid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I am not stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid ignored that. “So if we melt ice on wood and produce water..?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a word, Mòrag shifted the block of ice so that it was in the sink. Brighid fought — and failed — to hide her smirk. She loved Mòrag, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dearly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she had a nearly unparalleled skill of missing the obvious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her skill, it didn’t take long to melt the ice to just the right temperature. The water gurgled down the drain without any problems. Smiling to herself, Brighid stepped back and allowed Mòrag to handle the next step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have washed your hands?” Brighid asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should tie back your hair,” she continued. “As lovely as it is down, it’s not exactly practical.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag, hand mid-air in the box, turned and gave Brighid — or, rather, the tips of her flaming hair at her waist — a withering look usually reserved for the Ardainian Senators.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...You raise a good point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My own hair only reaches my shoulders. It will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mòrag turned back and pulled out what appeared to be two Bonito Sailfish by their tails. Brighid hurried to pull out a cutting board. The fish made a most hideous noise of slapping wet flesh as Mòrag threw them onto the board.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How anyone could </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy </span>
  </em>
  <span>cooking was beyond Brighid’s understanding. However, her lady, if nothing else, seemed determined to do so, and not even the Architect himself could stop Mòrag once she had dedicated herself to a task.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That…” Brighid pulled her face. “These </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead fish, yes?” At least there wasn’t an Argentum Monkfish this time. Never again did she want to see those beady, pleading eyes, that pathetically-flopping mouth… Architect, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it gave her the shivers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I made certain of that, yes.” There was a brief pause before Mòrag gingerly poked one of the fish’s heads with a knife and squinted. Brighid’s keen eye did not see a single squirm or twitch. “...Yes, it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A welcome relief.” Paper rustled as Brighid lifted her hand to see the recipe once more. “Firstly, we should prepare the vegetables before the fish, to avoid future panic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should, indeed.” Mòrag nodded and went back to the bags. “Call out the ingredients for me, if you would, Brighid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid pulled out a squeaking stool and sat down on it. “Three Spark Cucumbers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hhgh…” After a few seconds, three of them cluttered and rolled on the ground. True to their name, they gave off little crackles of sparks when they rubbed against one another. Brighid had seen Pyra wince and shake her hand while cooking with them on more than one occasion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good. Three Puri Leaf Cabbages?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag heaved them out one at a time, planting each of the fat cabbages on the ground with a grunt. With their drooping yellow leaves, they appeared to be your typical rotting vegetables to the average person’s eye, but, for this particular species, that was the optimal sign that they were ripe and ready to be used.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One Sweet Wasabi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A plant so sweetening that even Brighid, lover of all types of desserts, would struggle to eat an entire one. Mòrag placed it on top of the Puri Leaf Cabbage closest to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent,” Brighid said. “Finally; a single Ruby Mangosteen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag precariously balanced it on top of the Sweet Wasabi, creating a bizarre tower of plants. It wobbled when Mòrag took her hand off; Brighid saw her let out a relieved sigh when it didn’t tumble over and bring the Sweet Wasabi and Puri Leaf Cabbage with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you I had all the ingredients,” Mòrag said as she pushed herself back into a standing position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smiling, Brighid stood as well. “I never doubted you, my lady. Only over the meat, since you do have a tendency to be… flexible with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meat is </span>
  <em>
    <span>meat.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the first step was to prepare any non-meat items, that was what they got to first. After Brighid gently reminded Mòrag that, yes, they had to wash them lest they accidentally give everyone food poisoning or worse, they chopped and peeled them all. Brighid handled the knife work with the Sweet Wasabi while Mòrag peeled the leaves off the Puri Leaf Cabbages and took out the core of the Ruby Mangosteens (Brighid delegated to do any tasks involving cutlery as her hands had, on multiple occasions, accidentally set fire to any leaves she peeled by hand or any dough she attempted to knead). For those few, sweet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>blissful </span>
  </em>
  <span>minutes, not a cooking mishap was to be found in sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alas, peace was never eternal, and was shattered when Mòrag took down a bottle of oil to prepare the frying pan for the Bully Tunas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you finished the greens?” Brighid asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will do so after this.” Mòrag unscrewed the lid of the bottle. “How much oil is usually required?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah — just a tablespoon, if even that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag tilted the bottle and frowned when no oil came slithering out of it. “It seems… stuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps some oil has solidified in the cap?” Brighid offered. Her hands were still occupied, now crushing the wasabi into a paste so that it could be used as a dip for the main dish. “Give me a minute and I can check.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was, indeed, an almighty need, for Mòrag flipped the bottle upside down completely and began to slap the bottom of it with the palm of her hand. Just as Brighid dropped her knife to try and stop her, oil came gushing out of the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag yelped and turned it upright at once, oil dripping and sliding down the sides. The damage had been done. The frying pan had oil splotched everywhere on its surface, and significantly more than just a spoonful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Well,” Mòrag said. “That could have gone better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Indeed,” came Brighid’s flat response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-it will be just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mòrag gave her hands a quick rinse under the tap before drying them on the sides of her dungarees. “What’s the worst that could happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mòrag—”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand reached for the stovetop knob and flicked it on—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flames roared and howled, the sizzling of oil overwhelming Brighid’s nose and prickling her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shite!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mòrag-!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Brighid!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid’s powers were not exclusive to her own flames. She reached out a hand and was quick to engulf the fire before it could devour the entire house. With great concentration, she stretched out her fingers and flattered the flames. She clenched her fist tight until they had wisped away into nothing and turned the stovetop off with her other hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled her hands back. Mòrag’s face was caked in a thin layer of smoke, one that she didn’t seem to notice. The frying pan was…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh dear,” Mòrag muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do hope she has another one.” Brighid snatched the tragic, innocent utensil from atop the stove. It now resembled more of a charred and mangled molten mess of metal than any kind of cooking equipment. Given the sad state that it was in, there was only one fitting end for it now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, heading for the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she returned from the porch, the frying pan now only smoke and embers fluttering through the beautiful evening sky, Mòrag had a second frying pan on the side. Underneath the grey on her face, Brighid could see a slight blush shining through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, er.” Mòrag glanced away. “I believed that it would be best to wait for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed.” Brighid smiled and rested a hand on Mòrag’s cheek. She startled and stammered, although no words came out. “You have smoke all over your face. Let me wash it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, do I?” Her own hand came up to touch her cheek, but Brighid gently gripped it with her own hand. Mòrag’s blush intensified. The tap was running — Mòrag must have turned it on — so it was a simple task to bring one hand under it. The sensation of cool water streaming over her fingertips instinctively made her shudder and want to pull away. All fire Blades, of course, fared poorly with water, but Brighid more-so than most. Still, for her love, she would sit underneath a waterfall for days without pause if necessary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Although she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>hope she would never have to do so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her wet fingers dabbed away the smoke on Mòrag’s cheeks and nose. Mòrag remained utterly still, her teeth biting her lip as she glanced away. It was unusually subdued for her, and Brighid couldn’t help but fret a little when she grabbed a towel to dry her beloved’s skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Is something the matter, Mòrag?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I cannot hide anything from you, Brighid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be fair, you weren’t trying. And I would rather you didn’t.” Brighid’s hand rested on Mòrag’s cheek. “Please. Tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few seconds, Mòrag’s hand rested over her own, one source of warmth against another. She still didn’t look up. “I don’t intend to be this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>woeful </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the kitchen. I cannot understand why my every attempt at cooking ends in such miserable failure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that all, my lady?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Mòrag’s head snapped up. “What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>‘is that all?’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly what I said.” Brighid scoffed. Was this really what Mòrag had been so upset about? “No one person cannot be perfect at everything, no matter their best efforts. It makes things more exciting that way, do you not think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>suppose </span>
  </em>
  <span>so, but…” Mòrag huffed. “It’s frustrating that my repeated best efforts are for naught.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come, now.” Brighid dropped her hand down to Mòrag’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “The meal is still perfectly intact. We may be down a frying pan, but that doesn’t mean the entire dish is ruined.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Indeed, the Bonito Sailfish still laid on the side, and all of the various vegetables and greens had not been charred in the accident. Brighid watched her lady’s face turn from resignation to pleasant surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed it is,” Mòrag murmured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about I handle the meat, and you can finish preparing the greens?” Brighid’s skills in the kitchen may not have been much better than her lady’s, but she held reasonable confidence in her ability to sear some fish. “And if you finish before me, you can use the Sweet Wasabi and Ruby Mangosteen to create some dressing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag smiled. “What would I do without you, my dear Brighid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid felt her own cheeks heat ever-so-slightly. It was rare for her lady to use pet names, after all. “Well. I can think of a great many things, but thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Mòrag walked over to the kitchen side and got to work. Brighid watched her, smiling, for a few moments before she went to the cooker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Side-by-side, they walked, chatting about nothing meaningful as they worked. Mòrag was skilled with a knife and soon had the Puri Leaf Cabbages and Spark Cucumbers sliced and prepared in a large bowl. The delicious scent of sizzling fish filled the air, making Brighid’s throat dry and her stomach grumble in impatience.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Brighid was done, she decided to allow Mòrag to create the dressing. It was only a side dish, after all, and would not have a significant impact on the meal’s quality if Mòrag was to set a second pan on fire. But she was careful and patient this time, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she poured in the exact amount of Sweet Wasabi and crushed Ruby Mangosteen required. The sweet, almost cloying, smell of them cooking with the oil was mouthwatering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid herself prepared the plates and cutlery for serving. She pulled down twelve plates, had a quick debate with Mòrag on whenever or not Pyra and Mythra required two separate plates, and retrieved a thirteenth. It was impressive that Corinne had so many plates to begin with. No doubt, Brighid realised, from her many years of looking after the children of Fonsett.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laid them all out on the table along with the relevant cutlery and gathered all of the stools and chairs together. When she turned around to retrieve the bowl of greens, she couldn't help her smile at the glee spreading across her lady's face. Brighid stood next to her, arm curled loosely around Mòrag’s waist, and peered into the bubbling pan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That looks wonderful, Mòrag."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Doesn't it just?" Mòrag leaned over and gave a quick kiss on Brighid's face with a low chuckle. "And I couldn't have succeeded without you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah… you flatter me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's only the truth." Mòrag turned the cooker's heat down to its lowest temperature to allow the dressing to simmer. The Bonito Sailfish were still at a hot temperature suitable for serving. Taking a knife and fork in hand, Mòrag cut each fish into six portions for serving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mòrag. A question?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mòrag paused mid-cutting and turned her head to Brighid. "Yes?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>you change the meat if you suspected it to be red and not white?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah…" Brighid hadn't been expecting the sprinkling of colour that conquered her lady's cheeks so intensely and suddenly. "Well. I, ah. I did it for you, Brighid. I know how much you enjoy seafood." She glanced away, still looking bashful. "I can only hope I didn't ruin the entire meal."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mòrag…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could stop herself, Brighid grasped her lady's hand and gave a tight squeeze while beaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A-ah-!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Thank you," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Brighid whispered. "Each and every day I am so blessed to have you as my partner."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Mòrag gave a soft smile. "And I you, Brighid."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood there in pleasant silence, beaming at one another, until Mòrag startled. "Ah — the meat! Bring over the plates and I shall begin to distribute them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brighid chuckled. How she loved this woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The slices of fish may not have been particularly large, but it was enough to make Brighid drool from hunger. When they were done, she and Mòrag stood side-by-side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, then," Mòrag said haltingly. "We should inform the others that dinner is ready."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"In a bit," Brighid murmured. She took Mòrag's hand once more. She didn't think she could ever tire of this. "We rarely get time alone nowadays. I'd quite like this to last for just another few minutes."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corners of Mòrag's eyes wrinkled with her smile. "Well. How can I possibly say no to that?"</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[ <a href="https://twitter.com/greenpiggles">twitter</a> ]</p>
<p>if you enjoyed the fic, please consider leaving a kudos and/or comment!! thanks so much, have a fantastic day~ &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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